


For Your Viewing Pleasure

by boobtube1938



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Handcuffs, Harry forces Niall into bed while he takes the package, Harry goes along with it, Harry just wants to be a good friend, Louis is a pornstar, M/M, Miscommunication, Niall is sick but has something to deliver to his work, Niall kept his job a secret, Sex Toys, Sextape, dildo, larry - Freeform, that wants his tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boobtube1938/pseuds/boobtube1938
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’s not sure he’s seeing right, he can’t possibly be seeing what he believes he is seeing. What type of establishment…<br/>Oh.<br/>No, this can’t, he can’t…"</p>
<p>Niall is sick. Harry is being the best friend in the world. Louis is naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Viewing Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Late night thoughts resulted in this story being written.

Curls cascade down his face, falling forward as his head is tilted downwards, eyes scanning the crinkled paper in his hands. He should be close to his designation, sent on a mission by his best mate to drop this thing, whatever the hell it was, off at his friend’s workplace.

  
Niall, an Irish lad that Harry has known for the past year and a half, was direly ill, locked in the bathroom since early light, deliriously talking, saying how it was important to get this box to his place of employment.

  
The blonde was determined to get the box to where it needed to go, wanting to make the journey even in his condition.

  
Harry had been insistent of running this errand, forcing Niall back into bed. He had found the address to the building in one of Niall’s drawers in his bedroom, quickly grabbed what was needed and rushed out of the door, after making sure Niall had all he needed, of course.

  
Now, being friends with someone for over a year, one would think that Harry would easily locate the place, however, Niall had been secretive, keeping the location and his exact job title completely hidden from the curly-haired lad. Even in his state, the blonde was protesting Harry going to drop the items off.

  
“I have to be getting…” Harry mutters to himself, eyes twitching side-to-side, looking for the building. Something at the corner of his eye catches his attention, turning his head to get a better look. “Huh!” He’s triumphant in his finding.

  
Long strides across the street has Harry walking up to the glass doors. He tucks the box under one arm to push open the doors.

  
Fresh citrus invade his senses, pristine tiles squeak under his suede boots as he nears the front desk.

  
Nails click on a hidden keyboard, gum pops around brightly red colored lips and a high, nasally voice in the silence of the room. Harry stands in front of the brunette, waiting patiently for the woman to notice.

  
Five minutes pass of the woman randomly saying ‘ _yeah, mhmmm, yup_ ’ before a booted foot taps against the floor. Hazel eyes roll in the brunette’s head as she glances up at the muscular man before her. She pops her gum.

  
“Hold on, Janet.” She takes the phone away from her ear, placing her free hand over the bottom half of the phone. “May I help you?” She raises a brow, her words dripping with annoyance.

“Yes.” Harry plasters on a fake smile. “I’m Harry Styles, Niall Horan’s…”

“Veronica is waiting for you.” She interrupts at hearing the name. She taps a few keys, entering information into the computer. “Third floor, second door on your right.”

“Umm, ok?” Harry goes to turn away. “Thanks?” He goes unnoticed as she is back rambling nonsense on the phone. It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.

Climbing up three flights of stairs, he finds the door, turning the handle and stepping through into a large room filled with lights, cameras and over a dozen people bustling about. He’s almost run into a few times as he travels deeper into the chaos. 

He tries to get the attention of one of the moving bodies, all too busy or occupied with a task to notice the lad. 

“Where is the…no that goes over there! Mark, grab the…” A petite blonde dressed in a tight black dress shouts orders, occasionally grumbling into a headset or marking the clipboard held against her side. “We need…” She trails off as her eyes land Harry. “Why aren’t you dressed?” She shouts, rushing over towards the man, grasping his arm to drag him through the crowd. He tries to protest, tell her he has no idea what she is on about, new noise drowns him out.

“Do I have to do everything around here?!” The woman that has a hard grip on his arm shouts. She takes note on the time, wrist jingling with jewelry. “You don’t have time.” She turns her head. “What you’re wearing will have to do.” She pushes him forward into the area brightly lit and the focus of all of the cameras present.

Harry finally has a chance to take in his surroundings. In front of him, a large canopy bed decorated with…

He’s not sure he’s seeing right, he can’t possibly be seeing what he believes he is seeing. What type of establishment…

Oh.

No, this can’t, he can’t…

He needs to get out of here, needs to get far away from this place and yell at Niall for the rest of eternity. He should have told Harry, inform him of what his job exactly entitled, he would have thought more about coming here.

He turns, wishing to address the woman who pushed him onto set, instead, he is met with the sight of the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on. He’s stunned into silence as he watches the curves of the man in front of him walk with his head high, an air of arrogance and mischief surrounding the man. 

Piercing blue eyes pop with his wispy hair and sharp cheekbones. 

“I want my tea when this is over!” He calls to no one in particular, still stalking towards a frozen Harry. He eyes the curly-haired lad, smirking, briefly running his tongue over his lips. He rubs his hands together. “New boy, yeah?”

“Uh, um…” Harry stutters, rendered speechless by this man’s beauty.

“Speechless already?” The unknown man dressed in nothing but a red robe questions. “I’ll make sure to fix that when you’re begging for…”

“Tomlinson!” The woman from before shouts, gaining the attention of the man talking to Harry. The man, Tomlinson, rolls his eyes at the approaching woman.

“Veronica, darling!” His smile is as fake as the woman’s boobs. “What a pleasure to see you this lovely day.”

“Fuck off, Tomlinson. I need you and Harold here to get into position.” Harry goes to protest, tell them there is some mistake. Veronica hushes him, ripping the box out of his grip. “You don’t need this.” She tosses it to the side. “Harold here was late, not having enough time for wardrobe and makeup. Make the best of it, Tomlinson.”

The addressed man mock salutes the retreating woman, who takes her perch on the director’s chair set off to the left side of the stage.

The man in the robe turns, smirking at Harry. “Well, Harold, looks like its show time.” He undoes the tie of his robe, dropping the material, pooling around his feet.

Harry forgets how to breathe. This Tomlinson person is even more breathtakingly beautiful when in all his glory. Softly defined muscled arms and stomach. Milky skin littered with black ink. Harry notices the jutting of his hips, the trail of hair that leads to a very thick cock.

  
As much as he would love to be on the receiving end of _that_ , he needs to say something, tell them that he isn’t this Harold person, he’s not some porn star here to make a sex tape.

  
What will his mother think?!

  
Words are rendered useless when this flawless human being steps closer, leaning up by standing on his tiptoes, whispering in Harry’s ear.

  
“I’m going make you remember how to talk.” He nips at Harry’s ear, hand moving over the other’s bum and pinching, earning a jump in response.

Tomlinson laughs before forcefully pushing the muscular man back, guiding him towards the bed filled with an assortment of sex toys, lube and condoms.

“W-wait, I’m not…” Harry finally finds enough strength to form a word.

“Changing the script, Curly?” Louis pushes Harry onto the bed, the taller lad falling backwards with a bounce, immediately being pressed into the mattress by Tomlinson’s body on top of his.

He raises his hands, trying to push the man off of him, he needs to tell them. Movements cease when sinful lips attach themselves to his neck. Harry’s only thoughts are now on the kisses searing his skin.

He moans.

  
It has been a while since he had gotten laid, his body instantly reacting to the touches and the weight of the other body on top of him. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing, he getting laid by this stunning man. He can totally do this.

He wants to do this.

He can feel a smirk against his heating skin, then, a wet strip starting at his slightly exposed collar bone, ending at his jaw. Harry sucks in a breath, hands clamping on the other’s sharp hips.

He had been distracted in the ministrations that were taking place that he hadn’t noticed Tomlinson reaching his arm out to grab something.

“I didn’t tell you that you could touch.” Tomlinson hisses in Harry’s ear as he pries the hands on his hips away before clicking of metal echoes throughout the room.

Harry’s clasped wrist is wrenched up above his head, his free arm follows shortly after. His arms are stretched tight over his head, looped around one of the supports for the canopy. He never knew how hot being in this position could be.

  
He tugs against his bindings, testing the give on each arm which was not much. 

Tomlinson tisks. “Boys who are bad don’t get to touch.” Emerald eyes consumed by black orbs meet Tomlinson’s. “Now you can only watch as I tear you apart.” He hisses, then, looks at Harry’s still very clothed body. “This will not do.” Slender fingers grasp the hem of the still clothed man’s black shirt, pulling in opposite directions, tearing the material until it falls off of the curly-haired one’s toned torso.

  
“That was my favorite shirt!” Harry is finally able to speak, no real heat behind his words.

  
Tomlinson smirks. “Oops.” He darkly chuckles, then, leans down to run his tongue over sweaty abs. All thoughts of the ruined shirt thrown out, Harry’s mind going blank at the sensation overwhelming him.

  
Tomlinson trails down, stopping at the beginning of painted-on pants. Nimble fingers dance along the seams, teasing, promising for great things to come. Harry’s dick growing impossibly harder beneath the dark blue material.

  
Then, they’re gone, Tomlinson retracting back to glance at the wreck of a man beneath him.

  
Harry’s shaking with pent up arousal.

  
He bucks his hips up, wanting to find friction for release. He is able to rut against the underside of Tomlinson’s cock, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the shock of pleasure coursing through his body. He goes to repeat, however, his hips are slammed, pinned to the mattress.

“Did I give you permission to rut?” Tomlinson bites. “Seems like young Harold has a problem listening.” He moves up the exposed body, cock now laying heavy at Harry’s chin. “Open.” There’s no other explanation, confusing the pinned lad slightly before Tomlinson is griping his jaw, forcing it open and his cock through raw lips.

He is thick against Harry’s tongue, saltiness invading his taste buds. He moans around the intruding body part as Tomlinson starts thrusting, hitting the back of the taller lad’s throat. He doesn’t gag.

Tomlinson shudders at the discovery, hips temporarily losing their rhythm.

“Practicing, I see.” Tomlinson gives a sharp thrust. “Let’s see how well you swallow around my cock.” Harry’s eyes sharpen at the challenge. Tomlinson thrusts forward, cock forced down the other lad’s throat, remaining there.

Harry swallows, throat becoming tight, his tongue lapping at the underside. Tomlinson has to grab his balls to not shoot his load right then.

“God, where did they find you?” He retracts, crawling down Harry’s semi naked body. He’s routing around the mess of sex toys at the edge of the bed, picking up lube and a large, ribbed dildo. Blown emerald eyes grow impossibly bigger. “Think you can handle two?”

He’s slightly confused, not really sure what is being asked, but he nods enthusiastically anyways, just wanting to be full.

“Beg. I want to hear you beg for it.” He outstretches his free arm, pinching already perky nipples, earning moans in response. “Let me hear those pretty words.” He twists, pinching harder.

“Ahh…ye- please.”

Tomlinson raises a brow, smirk forming on his face. “Please what, Curly?”

“Cock…inside…please.” He thrusts his hips up, whining at nothing being done.

“I guess since you asked so nicely.” The petite man hums, hands reaching towards the zipper of the other lad’s bulging pants. The button pops easily with skilled hands, zipper following shortly after. “Nice touch, Harold.” His hand wraps around the straining cock. Harry jumps at the touch.

  
“Pl-ease.” He almost sobs, jostling his hands against the cuffs around his wrists, skin rubbing raw. The other lad has pulled his pants to just below his knees, deeming it the perfect position, keeping Harry’s legs restrained.

  
Tomlinson hoists the other lad’s legs up and over, resting Harry’s calves on his shoulders, butt lifted off of the bed.

  
Without warning, fingers are breaching Harry’s entrance, eliciting a scream from the younger lad.

  
“There we go.”

  
Harry’s panting as two fingers scissor and fuck him open, prelude to what is to come. He’s babbling nonsense without a care, knuckles turning white from clenching his fists. His teeth are clenched together as his eyes stay focused on the body between his legs.

A third and fourth finger push past the ring of muscles, Harry too far gone in his bliss to notice the pain they cause. The four fingers don’t last long before they are taken out, Harry whining at the loss, before the dildo that was shown to him previously breeches his hot heat.

  
Tomlinson doesn’t take too much time before bottoming out the toy, holding it still as Harry adjusts.

  
“M-move.” The dildo is slide out before brutally pushed back in, earning a scream from bitten lips. The action continues, Tomlinson slamming the toy into Harry’s hole, loud moans erupting from a raw throat.

  
Harry knows he’s close, can feel the familiar heat pooling in his lower stomach. “G-gonna…”

  
“You only come when I say you can.” Tomlinson snarls, grabbing the base of Harry’s cock and thrusting the dildo in at an angle, hitting the other lad’s prostate.

  
“P-please.” Harry’s head is thrown back, exposing his long expanse of neck.

  
“Not done with you yet.” The porn star shifts closer, cock at the other man’s entrance, sliding slowly into the other’s body alongside the dildo.

  
A guttural moan mixed with a scream fills the room.

  
The grip around Harry’s cock vanished when Tomlinson breached the waiting hole.  
Harry comes, white spurting the whole way up to his chin, also hitting the body above him.

  
“Boys who don’t listen get punished.” Tomlinson pants through his thrusts.

  
Harry’s chest is heaving. “Y-you did t-that on purpose.”

  
The thrusting man shrugs. “M-maybe I did, w-what are you going to…” It’s Harry’s turn for revenge, he tightens his hole, adding unbelievable pressure on the cock inside of him.

  
Tomlinson can’t hold back, shooting his load into the condom. He slumps forwards onto the body below him, both men panting wildly.

  
Thick silence blankets the room, crew members stunned at what they had just witnessed, some even excusing themselves from the tense room.

  
“Hello, I’m here for the taping with a Louis Tomlinson. Sorry about the tardiness.” A voice calls out through the now opened door. All wide eyes turn to face the stranger in the doorway. “I’m Harold…”

  
Louis, upon hearing this, turns his sweaty head towards Harry’s. “You’re not…”

  
Harry shrugs as much as he can with his hands still clamped above his head. “I tried to tell you.”

  
“Unbelievable.”

  
Harry and Louis try to catch their breath.

  
“Wanna go out sometime?” Louis questions.

  
“I’m free after this.”

  
“Perfect.”

 ***

If it’s a week later when Niall accidentally puts in Harry and Louis’ sex tape and locks himself in the bathroom for an hour, well, that’s no one’s business.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel like I should put this in here: Harry, even though thrown into this situation by miscommunication, he was still a will participant.
> 
> So, yeah, that's the story, let me know what you think!


End file.
